Sometimes, the best thing you can do is not think, not wonder, not imagine, not obsess. Just breathe and have faith that everything will work for the best. But as I blinked several times, trying to get used to the dim yellow light that hung from above the fifthly cell where I was locked, I knew that things were never going back to how they used to be.

A sharp, throbbing pain was placed in my left leg and when I tried to sit up, I felt like if someone was trying to rip my leg off. I bit the inside of my cheeks so I wouldn't scream while I tried no to shed any tear. I pressed my face on the grimy floor, knowing I wouldn't able to stand up by myself.

I had never felt that kind of pain, the kind that didn't let you think. I didn't consider myself a weak girl. When I was only five years old, I stepped on a sea urchin and the doctor had to pull out thirty-five quills. I didn't even cry a bit. Although I think it wasn't so much because it didn't hurt –because it hurt like hell–, but because of the person who was right next to me.

I closed my eyes tightly as the face of that person projected into the darkness of my mind, suddenly feeling an uncontrollable desire to burst into tears.

"Kara, are you okay?"

My heart sank when I heard Lucas's voice. I raised my head and titled it slightly, meeting him in the cell next to mine. I didn't remember exactly what had happened. I only knew I was in the living room watching a movie with him when someone broke into the residence.

"I'm—" I stopped talking when I followed Lucas's look and saw an iron stick piercing the lower part of my left leg. My stomach cringed, bringing a retching.

"Look at me," he said. "Kara, look at me."

I turned my head and looked at Lucas, who had squatted down with his hands holding the grey bars of the cell and was looking at me with concern.

"I'm so sorry," I blurted out, almost voicelessly. He didn't deserve any of this. He was going to hate me when he found out who I really was and realize I was the reason why his life was in danger.

I heard the door of the room open. Lucas tried to get up, but I stopped him by placing one of my hands over his.

"Whatever they do, don't do anything stupid," I warned him. "I'm going to be okay. Do not worry about me."

I felt awful for lying him, but I knew he had nothing to do with whatever was happening. Lucas was just a normal boy, with a normal life and with a normal family. Why would someone want to kidnap him?

The door of my cell was opened by a tall, pale man, who took me by my hair and dragged me out as I screamed in pain and Lucas tried to reach me out with his hand. I tried to stop him by grabbing his wrists but he was stronger than me.

"Stupid, stupid girl," the man said with a funny accent. He grasped me by the collar of my t-shirt and lifted me without difficulty as I shrieked. Tears fell down my cheeks. I was in so much pain. "You shouldn't have told your father where you are."

I frowned, confused. I hadn't told my father where I was. Not only I had no way of doing it, but I hadn't talked with him in a long, long time.

"I didn't tell him anything," I replied. If my father was around, I had to buy some time. I wasn't ready to die that night, let alone let Lucas die.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" The man grunted as he shook me, forcing me to look at him. I saw a gun in his other hand and a lump formed in my throat. I had grown up surrounded by weapons, although I had never taken one, or had one aimed at me.

"Leave her alone!" Lucas yelled as he tried to open the door of his cell. I closed my eyes tightly. He shouldn't be standing out that way, not when he was dispensable in a situation like that.

"So noble," the man scoffed, laughing wickedly as he dropped me. I moaned in pain when I hit the ground. My leg hurt so much I was sure I'd pass out eventually.

The man went to Lucas's cell, opened the door and took him out of there at gunpoint. I found myself praying for the first time in my life, although I wasn't sure what I was doing could be called praying.

Please don't do anything stupid. Please don't do anything stupid.

"Lucas Thompson, the boy who thinks he can win Kara's Roger heart." Lucas didn't hide his surprise when he heard my last name. I don't think he related it to my father, but it wasn't the name I was using in school. "She's a little liar, don't you know? She's not who she says she is."

"What do you want?" I grunted in pain, making myself hear. I didn't want that man spilling all my secrets to Lucas. It wasn't his place. I should be the one to tell him the truth, to let him know me and my family were the responsible ones for that situation. "Let him go, please. I'm the one you need," I implored.

"I really, really hate heroes."

I couldn't even react before the man raised the gun towards Lucas and pulled the trigger. A heartbreaking scream escaped my throat as Lucas dead body fell in front of me.

The metal door broke, causing a big noise. The man grabbed me again, forcing me to look away from Lucas's dead body, and put an arm around my neck, pressing the gun against my temple. My eyes met my father's blue eyes, who watched me with a mixture of terror, worry and guilt.

My father was about to take a step forward when a hand grabbed his shoulder. There he was, his protector and best friend, James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. Once glance at him and my heart pounded.

"You son of a bitch," my father hissed. "Let her go, she has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, I know she doesn't, Captain. Your daughter was just a little help to get you here. But you came before I could tell you what I want."

"And what do you want?" He asked. My father was about to lose patience. I could see it in his eyes and in his tensed jaw.

"Does it matter? You clearly don't have it."

After uttering those last words, he dropped me and ran towards one of the walls. "Cover your head, Kara!" I heard my father scream before the man could press a black switch. I did what he told me as an explosion happened at the end of the room.

"Go, go, go!" Bucky shouted. "I got her."

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and when I opened my eyes, I saw Bucky's blue eyes looking at me with a sad smile. "Hi, munchkin. Long time, no see."

My chest swelled, leaving me out of breath for a few seconds, and then a sob escaped my body. Bucky moved closed to me, placed one of his hand on the back of my head and gently pushed it to his shoulder.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay."

But how was it going to be okay? Lucas was dead, and there was no way I could return to the life I had built in San Diego.

I blamed my father. If he weren't who he was, none of that would had happened. No matter how many miles I put between the two of us, no matter how many times I pretended to be someone else, Captain America always ended up appearing and destroying my life.

"I have to get the iron out of your leg, Kara," Bucky told me in the calmest tone he could find. "This is going to hurt."

I thought I had no more strength to scream or any more tears to cry, but when Bucky removed the iron stick from my leg, I felt like I was going to die. I screamed and cried in pain as my vision blurred and turned black.